


A Lovely Night

by sourcherryscones



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, La La Land (2016)
Genre: Dancing!Simon, Fluff, Humour, La La Land AU, M/M, SnowBaz, carry on au, not my best work but whatever, violin!Baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 20:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11585367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourcherryscones/pseuds/sourcherryscones
Summary: Snowbaz La La Land Au. Simon is at a house party and can't stop thinking about the Violinist (Baz) playing there.(No La La Land characters included). Loosely based on the spring party/ lovely night scene in La La Land.





	A Lovely Night

**Author's Note:**

> I have noticed that a chrome extension I have on my computer had changed some words and I am HORRIFIED. I am fixing it now. This must have seemed so ridiculous before...whoops!

The party is all bright and fresh, pink tinted punch bowls and colourful outfits everywhere. It's perfect for spring. The best thing at this party, though, is the music. There's a classical quartet playing at the moment comprised of a Violinist, a Flautist, a Cellist, and Bassist, and they play a mixture of songs in the classical and pop genres. Though the thing that really catches my eye about the quartet is the Violinist- he's all sharp shades and clean lines, suited up complete with a bow tie, his black hair slicked back revealing a striking widow's peak. He stands up straight when he's playing, but moves with the music, both staunch and passionate at the same time. The quartet finishes off their piece, and he lifts his bow looking unbelievably cool. The violinist runs his hand through his hair and small strands of it fall out of place, framing his face in waves and still looking perfect. I've walked around the pool by now, and am standing around holding a glass of punch, in the dance floor area in front of the musicians. The sharply cool violinist meets my eye for a second, and I can feel myself start to blush as I look down at my feet. His eyes were all stormy grey and, I know I've used this word to describe him so many times already, but they were so cool. In both senses of the word. They were brilliant, soft and sharp at the same time, silky and cutting, dark and warm. I look up and I swear he was looking at me- I could see his head flick away and his loose waves swoop as he turned away. I take a sip of my punch just as the Flautist comes to the microphone and asks "Any requests?" I take my chance, I want to see how he reacts.

"Pachelbel's Canon?" I shout out.

"Can do," she smiles sweetly, unlike the violinist who rolls his eyes and shoots me a glare. I can tell the cellist and bassist aren't too happy either. I know people think it's an overplayed piece, but I like it. It's beautiful, in a modest way. I am sure the first people who heard it thought so too.

The violinist meets my eyes again, shaking his head, but I just sip my drink and smile. The quartet starts to play, and, even with his obvious discontent with the piece, he plays beautifully. He moves with the runs of notes, eyes closing as his bow moves across the strings and his fingers dance across the fret. Either he's just a really good performer, or he likes the song after all. I like to think it's the latter. I dance around to the piece, moving wildly, alone, in contrast with the handful of couples slow dancing together in the sun. I look over at the quartet in between my unruly dancing, and the cellist looks about ready to go on a murder spree, the flautist and bassist pretty neutral looking towards the whole thing, but the violinist still swaying with the melody. I twirl around, closing my eyes against the warm, spring sun, narrowly missing the pool in my spin.

I love dancing, even though I know I'm rubbish at it. Acting is my real passion. I love getting to be someone else, but still put myself into it so much. I still get jittery about performing, but I love it. It's auditions galore for me at the moment, though none of them have called me back. I just spend my days working in the coffee shop and nipping out for auditions.

The quartet finishes the piece, the flautist proceeding to ask if there are any more requests. No one answers so she announces that they'll take a quick break. The violinist puts his instrument in it's case, and steps down from the stage. I'm at the edge of the crowd by now, and I can see him walking my way. He walks with confidence, just oozing- well, coolness. I'm leaning against a pillar when he makes it to me and says with disdain, "I can't believe you made me play Pachelbel's Canon."

"You looked pretty into it," I reply, taking the opportunity to look up close at his face. His lips are soft looking and almost taupe coloured. I blush then, realizing that he must be seeing me staring at his lips.

"Well," he utters, "I 'looked pretty into it' as you so eloquently put it because I am a serious musician. I have to put on a good performance." He sounds very adamant in his opinion.

"Oh, really?" I say, cloaking it in a layer of sarcasm. "A lot of 'serious musicians' play at daytime house parties do they?" He looks a little annoyed now.

He huffs "What is that you do that allows you to look down on me, huh?"

"I'm an actor," I say, trying to sound confident.

"Have I seen you in anything?"

"Uhh… the Starbucks midtown. That's a classic."

"Oh," he says. "You're a barista. Now I see how you can look down on me from all the way up there." He says it thick with sarcasm.

"I wasn't looking down on you," I reply, staring at my feet. "In fact, I liked the performance." He seems to be coming around, less annoyed looking now.

"Well, then. What's your name?"

"Simon. You?"

"Baz. I guess I'll see you in the movies, Simon." And with that, he saunters off, back to the mini stage. Baz. Baz. It suits him. All cool and sharp.

The party is great. A few people try to come and flirt with me, but I'm not interested in any of them. There was an author who writes historical fiction (unpublished), a geologist who just talked about rocks the whole time (he was really passionate about it, I'll give him that), and a woman who works in a gift shop. While they were watching me, I couldn't stop watching Baz. He played beautifully for the whole time he was on stage. He closed his eyes while he was playing sometimes, just leaning into the music, his face all calm and beautiful. Baz's nose is long and slopes smoothly down his face. He's all sharp angles and hard lines. Beautiful edges.

The sun is setting as I walk out of the party, going to wait in line at the valet. I'm stuck with the author from earlier standing beside me in line, going on and on about their plot ideas. It's tiring to listen to since I really don't have any interest in it at all. There are so many people in front of us in line; it's going to take ages before I get to the front. But then I see him. Baz. At the front of the line.

"Hey!" I shout. "Johann Pachelbel!" He whips his head around- I knew that would get his attention.

"What?" He shouts back

"Did you just get your keys?" He nods. "Can you grab mine?" I start walking his way.

"Fine. What is it?"

"A Prius," I reply. He groans.

"There are about a thousand sets of Prius keys here."

"Mine's the one with a blue ribbon." He grabs a set of keys. I've made it up to him by now. "Nice playing earlier," I say to Baz, grabbing my keys.

"Thanks," he mutters. "I still can't believe you made us play Canon in D."

"Get over it," I say, laughing. He laughs too, a kind of giggle-chuckle hybrid. Which is strange, but adorable. It doesn't match his personality from earlier, but I like it.

"Fine," he says, "I forgive you, Simon."

"Good," I smile at him. We're climbing a hill, trying to find our cars, and the sun is setting to our right, tinting the sky a beautiful gradient of orange, pink and blue. The stars are starting to show, sprinkled lightly over the sky. It really is a lovely night.

We get to the top of the hill, still having no luck finding our cars. There's a seat looking out over the view- the starry sunset looking over the city lights. I sit down on it, and Baz sits next to me.

"Not too much to look at," he says.

"I've seen better," I utter in an agreeing tone, and then we both burst out laughing again. I like this. I like Baz.

"So," he says. I look at him.

"So what?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure he's just saying it to break the silence we've been sitting in while we observe the view.

"Ah, nothing," he replies. He's turned around and we're looking into each other's eyes now. It's like some stereotypical romance film. And I think I'm going to kiss him. Because he's right there and he's the only one I've been interested in all day. And hell, just why not? Even if the interest isn't mutual, it's a big city so it's unlikely I'll ever see him again anyway. I'm leaning in, and then just like a stereotypical rom-com, his phone rings. He backs away from me, grabbing it from his pocket. I silently curse the world for ruining my moment. Why?! You could've just waited a minute. It won't feel right if I kiss him now. That was the moment! He looks at the Caller ID, shrugs, and shoves it back in his pocket. Then he stands up, framed beautifully against the coloured sky.

"Coming?" He asks, and outstretches his hand to me. I'd be lying to say that I'm not a little deflated.

"Yeah," I mutter, grabbing his hand and standing up. But then, keeping hold of my hand, he grabs my back with his other, pulling me towards him and kissing me abruptly. I lean into the kiss, placing my hand on the back of his neck. I'm overjoyed. It's perfect, apart from the phone call ruining the first opportunity, of course. But Baz- cool, sharp, violin Baz is kissing me. And it's beautifully romantic. We pull apart and I look into his eyes, stroking his soft, black hair.

"I thought the phone had ruined the moment," I say softly. "I thought that I'd never have the opportunity again."

"Me too, so I took initiative." He's smirking. I give him another quick kiss.

"So, I guess my interest wasn't one sided."

"Indeed it wasn't." He kisses me again. I take his hand and start walking.

"Come on," I'm grinning, "we better find at least one of our cars so we can make a night out of this."

"That sounds lovely, Simon. As long as you don't make me play Canon in D ever again." He says it jokingly.

"Fine," I concede, "I promise I'll never make you play it again. Probably." He laughs, and I join him. I spot my car.

"There's mine," I point it out, and open the door for him when we reach my Prius.

"I'm sure this will be a lovely night, Simon."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic- it was really fun to write! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Be as nice or as brutal as you like (is Simon a little OOC?).


End file.
